


The Courage Of Stars

by LLReid



Category: Bloodbound (Visual Novels)
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending, Anxiety Attacks, Anxiety Disorder, Canon LGBTQ Character, Depression, F/F, LGBTQ Character of Color, LGBTQ Female Character, Mental Health Issues, Panic Attacks, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Recovery, References to Depression, Same-Sex Marriage, Vampire Bites, Vampires
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-09
Updated: 2020-07-09
Packaged: 2021-03-04 22:20:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,021
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25163821
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LLReid/pseuds/LLReid
Summary: Inspired by; Saturn by Sleeping At Last.~~~~~“My mind is driving me insane. I’m not strong enough for this,” Anastasia whispered in her ear — like she didn’t want anyone to hear that coming out of her mouth. Ever. Among the problems with shame was that it in fact did not make you shorter or quieter or less visible. You just felt like you were.“You don’t have to be strong all the time.” Running her hands up her back, she held her tighter. “If you need to fall apart, fall apart. I am here. I’ve got you. Darkness will never take you... because you have me and I will not allow it.”“Light of my life, Kamilah. That's what you are.”She pressed her lips to her brow. “Scars are not shameful, okay? Not unless you let them be. If you do not wear them, they will wear you.”
Relationships: Kamilah Sayeed/Anastasia Sayeed, Kamilah Sayeed/Anastasia Swann, Kamilah Sayeed/Main Character (Bloodbound)
Comments: 4
Kudos: 53





	The Courage Of Stars

“You weren’t in bed, my love— What the— Have you been crying? Are you crying?,” Kamilah demanded as she rushed to her wife’s side. Anastasia was on their rooftop amongst the azaleas laying on their favourite lounger by the pool in the foetal position cuddling their favourite blanket, at dusk on a Saturday. It was unusual behaviour and something terrible must have happened to reduce her to such a state. Kamilah’s ancient mind went into overdrive as she knelt down at her side and pushed red hair out of her face. Had she been injured? Did someone die? Had she gotten herself into trouble? There was nothing worse than seeing her sad. "Are you all right? What’s wrong? Did something happen? So help me God, tell me who upset you and I will kill them—“

Anastasia reached out and caressed her cheek in a bid to calm her down, but Kamilah was a vampire with a personality that was the social equivalent of road rage. At all times, but especially so when her wife was hurting. Her eyes had already turned red, the steel in them had been forged in the deepest circle of hell. God help anyone who dared so much as look at her wife the wrong way. 

“I just—,” she cut herself off with a choked sob and Kamilah drew her into a tight embrace. “It’s five years today— Rheya— Jax— Nightmares—“

She made a series of soft soothing sounds and tightened her arms around her. Anastasia’s nightmares were nothing new, and because of her Bloodkeeper abilities she had to bear the trauma of having everyone who’d witnessed that final battle’s perspective on the event along with her own. It wasn’t easy or fair by any means, but it was the cards she’d been dealt. Life wasn’t always made of choices, it was made of a series of trades. Some were good, some were bad, but they all had a cost... and this was the cost of their victory.

In the myths, the hero survived. The evil was vanquished. The world was set right. Sometimes there were celebrations, and sometimes there were funerals. The dead were buried and mourned. The living moved on and healed. Nothing changed. Everything changed. That was a myth. All of that was nothing but a fanciful fairy story, real life was nothing like that. Real life was not a myth.

Kamilah knew on some unseen level that everything before that night in the Opera House and the final battle itself had changed the course of Anastasia’s life, had changed the way her mind worked. After even just one traumatic experience, the system of self-preservation could go onto permanent alert, as if the danger might return at any moment. It wasn’t a choice. And you could do that, couldn't you, she thought as she kissed her hair. You could choose some paths and not others. Not always, though, of course. 

On the chessboard of Anastasia’s short existence, the pieces had so often been lined up, the play preordained long before she’d even taken her first breath. So many times in her life she didn't get to pick her own path because the way she was supposed to go had already been decided for her.

As much as people thought they had free choice, absolute destiny was immutable. What was meant to happen did, through one measure or another. 

Freewill was a privilege, not a right.

Freewill was bullshit.

“I— I want it to stop,” Anastasia sobbed into the crook of her neck. There was pain and then there was PAIN. This was PAIN. “Every time I close my eyes— I— I see it again. I can’t make it stop.”

“Annie—“

“I’ve crossed that line we’re not supposed to cross. I died. And I’m still here. I cheated death. I took away a living Goddess’s powers. I killed a living Goddess and I feel empty inside.” She hiccuped. “I just need it to stop.”

“Rheya was not a ghost, or a goddess. She was a monster. Her power required corruption, and her corruption rewarded her power.”

“I need everything— It— It wont stop. I should have been able to save him—“

“Jax’s death was not your fault.”

“I feel like it was. My greatest fear in life isn’t dying. It never has been. It’s being the source of someone else’s suffering, and I feel like he suffered because of me.” Anastasia sniffled tearfully. “Everyone's immortal until suddenly they're not...”

“We’re all here for a reason, Annie. Some reasons are just bigger than others. He was meant to be your shield,” she murmured, wiping her tears away. “Your shelter. You were never meant to be his.”

Kamilah’s heart ached. She hated feeling so helpless, but the reality was that there was very little that she could do to alleviate her pain besides making her feel safe. She knew that when people felt weak, they tended to drop their heads onto the shoulders of others. Once, she would have gotten mad if anyone had to do that to her, and she probably still would if it were anyone but Anastasia leaning into her. She would never get upset when she did it, instead she was honoured. For that meant Anastasia trusted her enough to, even if subtly, ask her for help.

The essential truth of life, she had come to realise, wasn't romantic and took only two words to label: Shit Happens. But the thing was, they always kept going. She kept her friends and her found family and love of her life as safe as she was able to. And they kept fighting even after they’d been knocked down.

Sometimes IVs and pills weren’t always the best course of treatment for the wounded, especially when the gaping wounds littered the mind and the soul beneath the surface of the skin — far from sight. Sometimes all they needed was the touch of the one they loved and the sound of their voice and the knowledge that they were home, and that was enough to drag them back from the brink.

She leaned in and pressed a soft kiss to her lips, wiping her tears away with her thumbs. Sometimes it felt like the she was the only thing that tethered her to the earth and it was strange, but she felt welded to her on some core level now. She had seen her at her absolute worst, at her weakest and most insane, and she hadn't looked away. She hadn't judged and she hadn't been burned — and after battling Rheya it had been as if in the heat of her power induced meltdown they had melted together. 

This relationship was more than mere emotion. 

It was a matter of soul.

“What can I do?,” she asked softly. “I know I can’t fix this but... is there anything I can do to ease your pain a little?”

“Don’t leave, okay?,” Anastasia sniffled. “Stay.”

"I’m not going anywhere." Kamilah brushed her hair back with a gesture so tender anyone else would have said it was out of place coming from her. Every time she held her like this she was amazed at her lightness. She took up so much space in the world — in her world — it was hard to imagine her being so slight. In her mind, she was made of stone. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

She climbed up on the terry cloth lounger and bundled her up in the fuzzy blanket. Some might have said she was being overbearing and too controlling by insisting she lay wrapped up tightly beneath the weighted blanket when she was so upset, but she couldn’t help it. She was the love of her life. There were few things on the planet more aggressive or dangerous than Kamilah Sayeed in the protective mode she naturally slipped into when Anastasia was even slightly sad, and those bastards were called earthquakes and tornadoes. Anything she could do for her comfort and happiness, she would do, regardless of what it was.

“This— this is one of the reasons why I love you... so much.”

Her tone was heartbreakingly warm despite the fact she was still crying and Kamilah’s lips curved into the soft smile that was reserved only for her. “What do you mean?”

“You don’t... tell me to go back inside because it’s cold.” She sniffled. “You just— you want to make it easier for me to be where I want to be.”

This was why people got married, Kamilah suddenly thought. Fuck the sex and the social advantages. If they were smart, they did it to make a house that had no walls and an invisible roof and a floor that no could walk on-and yet the structure was a shelter no storm could blow down, no match could torch up, no passage of years could degrade. That was when it hit her. A bond like theirs could weather any storm.

“Like you would listen if I did,” she said, trying her best to smile. If Anastasia needed to talk about her nightmares, she would. Forcing her to open up would do nothing but make her more panicky. Distraction was sometimes the best medicine. “You’re much too stubborn to listen to me unless there’s handcuffs involved.”

Anastasia let out a watery laugh and her blue stare found hers. As Kamilah looked at her wife’s beautiful face, she felt as if she'd never not known that red hair, those blue eyes, those lips, that jaw. And what Kamilah saw in it caused her to falter: Love shone out of that face, unadulterated love untempered by her current state of sadness. When Anastasia locked eyes with her, she was instantly transported to a different plane of existence. It might’ve been as close to heaven as she’d ever get. Who the fuck knew or cared. All she knew was that there was only them together, the rest of the world drifted away into fog.

She wondered; Was it possible to fall in love with someone twice?

“Unless I’m not feeling bratty, then I have no problems taking direction.”

Kamilah hummed and pressed a kiss on her forehead. “Indeed. You’re a very good girl when you want to be.”

Anastasia tried to smile, but it looked more like a pained grimace. “I’m sorry for worrying you.”

“You don’t have to apologise, my love,” she assured her, her voice so gentle it was barely above a whisper. “You're perfect. Every inch of you. Every thought. Every word. Don't think for a moment there's anything wrong with you when you’re upset. We clear?"

"But—“

"No. I'm not hearing that." Bending down she pressed her lips to her temple. "Beautiful. All of you."

"How can you say that?," Anastasia whispered blinking back tears. “I have more issues than the New York Times.”

"Because it's the truth. Anastasia, you were born for a particular purpose, but you can be anything you want. Anything, alright? You are far more than these thoughts that torment you." She smiled. “You are the moon in my night sky. So no hiding from me, okay? We’re in this together.”

That made her smile.... then laugh a little. “Okay.”

"That's my girl,” she murmured.

“One thing, though.”

“What?"

“Were you really getting ready to whip out the daggers for me before you’d even put on a bra?”

The words that came out her throat were unlike anything she'd ever heard from herself before finding her. She was dead until she found her, though she breathed. She was sightless, though she could see. And then she came... and she was awakened. “If anyone hurts you, I will tear them apart with my bare hands and leave their broken, bloody bodies for the sun. No bra or daggers are necessary when it comes to protecting you.”

Anastasia giggled softly and placed a kiss on her collarbone. Kamilah wrapped her arms around her tighter and tangled their legs up beneath the blanket. Their hair mixed together as she rested her brow against hers; hers silky straight, Anastasia’s thick and wavy. 

Her cheeks were still slick with tears that spilled over her diamond eyes, a ceaseless flow she neither noticed nor appeared to care about. And Kamilah had a feeling it was going to be a while before the leaking stopped — an inner artery had been nicked and this was the blood of her heart, spilling out of her, covering her entirely. As much as she hated to see her crying, she knew that sometimes crying was a necessary evil. 

"If there are any who dare to hurt you," she whispered, "I shall see them staked before me and will leave their bodies in ruin.”

Those deep blue eyes held hers and didn't blink. It was funny. The silence of her had a bizarre effect on Kamilah. Normally, she was the quieter one in most situations, a natural introvert preferring to keep her own council and not share her thoughts on anything — especially when she was around other people. But with Anastasia’s mute presence, she felt curiously compelled to talk.

Caring was a thing with claws. It sank them in, and didn’t let go. Caring hurt more than a knife to the leg, more than a few broken ribs, more than anything that bled or broke and healed again. Caring for someone this much didn’t break you clean. It was a bone that didn’t set, a cut that wouldn’t close.

She traced over her fine features with her fingertips. And as she did, for some strange reason, she felt the arms of infinity wrapping around them both, holding them close... linking them forever. “You'd be amazed what I would do to keep you alive and happy." 

Abruptly, Anastasia’s mouth opened, her breath growing tight and cheeks flushing pink. And as the two of them laying chest-to-chest, she knew every inch of her body, felt it all at once. “In my dream... it was the same as always but only this time, you were in Jax’s place and I watched you...”

“Die,” Kamilah whispered. The quiet after she spoke bore down on them both, a tangible weight.

Blue eyes shut tight. It was a sentence Anastasia clearly didn’t want to finish. Many would have said she was probably too young to be this traumatised, but life had an awful way of being about experience, rather than mere calendar days. For a while it was all she could do to force herself to stay beneath the blanket, breathing deeply, eyes closed off to the world. But then, in a falsely level voice, she said, “It felt so real, Kami.”

“I survived that night because I had you to live for,” she said quietly, her fingers carding through red hair. “The whole first year of our relationship when it was one disaster after another with no respite, it was the only thing that kept me going. You were the only thing, actually. It was… you. It’s always been you.”

“My mind is driving me insane. I’m not strong enough for this,” Anastasia whispered in her ear — like she didn’t want anyone to hear that coming out of her mouth. Ever. Among the problems with shame was that it in fact did not make you shorter or quieter or less visible. You just felt like you were.

“You don’t have to be strong all the time.” Running her hands up her back, she held her tighter. “If you need to fall apart, fall apart. I am here. I’ve got you. Darkness will never take you... because you have me and I will not allow it.”

“Light of my life, Kamilah. That's what you are.”

She pressed her lips to her brow. “Scars are not shameful, okay? Not unless you let them be. If you do not wear them, they will wear you.”

With her, Kamilah was the version of herself she might have been had Gaius never laid eyes upon her. Anastasia was the potential she had always had and lost. She was the honour and the strength and the kindness she needed. And Kamilah would always take care of her, for as long as it took her to heal. The healing process, in contrast to trauma, was gentle and slow... the soft closing of a door, rather than a slam. However long it took for that door to finally close, she would be there.

She had never really been that good of a listener, not to anyone besides Anastasia. As her eyes stung and her heart broke for her, she stayed strong against the gale force she let loose as she explained her nightmare in excruciating detail. After all, there was a reason why here and hear were seperated by so little and sounded exactly the same. Bearing witness to her, she heard her and was there for her because that was all she could do during a fall apart. 

But, God, how it pained her to see how she suffered. 

It pained her very much, indeed.

She could see her wife suffocating beneath the weight of it. Of her agony. Of her trauma.

And she hated it. She hated every moment of it.

“I feel so weak. Like, what a waste of life, to stand around and think so much on every little thing—“

“Strength and weakness are tangled things,” Kamilah said. She knew that it didn’t matter what someone was. Only what they thought they were. She wouldn’t stand for her wife believing herself weak. “They look so much alike, we often confuse them, the way we confuse magic and power. Do you know what makes people weak?” 

Anastasia shook her head.

“Never having had to be strong. Never having to try. Never having had to fight. And certainly never having had to fight for your life — and you have done all of those things a thousand times over. You. Are. Not. Weak.” She held her gaze. “I know it hurts. So make it worth the pain."

"How?"

"By not letting go," she said softly. "By holding on, to your good memories, to hope, or whatever it is that keeps you fighting everyday."

“You.” Anastasia stroked her face. "I've only ever had you to live for. If you die I have nothing. I'm utterly lost. And I need you. I need you. I can’t ever lose you. You are my heart beating outside of my chest.”

“Survival is a special skill of mines,” she soothed, pulling the blanket over their heads so that they were entirely hidden beneath it. “You needn’t worry. I’ll be right here for as long as you wish it, until the moment you order me to leave.”

“That’s not gonna happen.”

She raised an eyebrow at her and playfully poked the ticklish spot on her ribs beneath the blanket. “What if I suddenly decide I like Pop Tarts and eat all of the chocolate ones before you? Or what if I watch an episode of any of our favourite Netflix shows without you?”

Anastasia let out a real laugh at that. “Then you’d sleep on the couch for a day after buying me more Pop Tarts.”

She shook her head, baffled and amused. “I don’t even know where to buy Pop Tarts.”

“Then you better not eat my fucking chocolate ones,” she giggled. “They’re the only good kind.”

“I would do anything for you. Anything,” she smirked, “but try a Pop Tart. I’m still traumatised from the Flaming Hot Cheeto.”

Anastasia smiled at that, one of those smiles that made Kamilah profoundly nervous. The kind of smile usually followed by either the puppy dog eyes she couldn’t say no to or a playful round of play fighting, there was rarely ever a grey area. Blue eyes widened and Kamilah’s breath arrested. “What would you do if I made you?”

Kamilah smirked and playfully flashed her fangs. “Kill you.”

“I’m not going to die," she said. "Not till I've seen it."

"Seen what?"

Her tired smile widened. "Everything.”

“That sounds wonderful.”

“Whatever I am, let it be enough.”

“It is,” she said without missing a beat. “You are.”

Anastasia kissed the bridge of her nose. “Power in Balance. Balance in Power... and all that.”

She leaned in and kissed her deeply and was happy to hear Anastasia’s soft gasp of pleasure against her lips. She was everything to her. Her whole world. She’d gone from being blasé about her own death for more than two thousand years to being desperate to live. For her. For them. For their future.

The kiss that was pressed against her own mouth was reverent, the contact no heavier than the warm, still air beneath the blanket. It was the consummate lover’s kiss, the kind of thing she had always wanted.

“I can smell you,” Kamilah whispered against her ear as she ran her fangs up her throat. “The most beautiful thing in the world — except for your taste.”

Without thinking, Anastasia titled her chin up, aware that she was offering herself. “Please.”

“As you wish.” In slow motion Kamilah’s dark head dropped down and there was a silken brush as her hair moved against her throat. With delicious precision, her fangs pressed against the vein that ran up from her heart, then slowly, inexorably, punched through skin. Their chests merged.

She closed her eyes and absorbed the feel of it all, the warmth of their bodies so close, the way Anastasia’s hair felt soft on her jaw, the slide of a powerful arm as it slipped around her shoulders. It wasn’t inherently sexual, just intimate. Very intimate. On their own accord, Anastasia’s hands came to rest within Kamilah’s hair, bringing them together from head to foot. A tremor went through one of them. Or maybe... it was more likely they both shuddered.

Kamilah smiled against her as she held her first true lover against her, feeling that familiar difference in their heights and smelling that wonderful natural perfume. Sometimes your whole life could hinge on a fraction of an inch. Or the beat of nanosecond. Or a bite to the neck. It kind of made her — of all people — believe in the divine. It really did.

Anastasia was the first to speak, and when she did, it was with an eloquence and composure perfectly befitting the situation. “Holy shit.”

“I love you, Anastasia Sayeed,” she whispered, peppering kisses across her neck. The kisses were Kamilah pressed into a series of single gestures. Her brazen pride and her stubborn resolve, her recklessness and her daring and her hunger for freedom. It was all those things, and it took the Bloodkeeper’s breath away.

Anastasia’s arms were folding around her, and in that small gesture, she understood, felt it down to her bones, that draw, not the electric pulse of power but the thing beneath it, the weight she'd never understood before her. In a world where everything rocked and swayed and fell away, this was solid ground. This was safety. “I love you, too, Kami.”

She sank her teeth into Anastasia’s bottom lip, drawing blood, and gave a wicked laugh, and still she kissed her. Not out of desperation or hope or for luck, but simply because she wanted to — because she could. She kissed her until the chilly evening fell away and her whole body sang with heat. She kissed her until the fire within her burned up the panic and the anger and the weight in her chest that had lingered throughout the last five years, until she could breathe again, and until they were both breathless.

Some people were matches, they gave off a bit of light and no heat. And others were like furnaces, all heat but little light. And then, once in a blue moon, there was a bonfire, something so hot and bright you couldn't stand too near without feeling like you were laying on the surface of the sun.

Anastasia was a bonfire if ever Kamilah saw one.

Of course, even bonfires eventually went out, smothered by their own ashes. Even bonfires occasionally needed to be relit, their flames nursed until they could roar once again.

\- fin.


End file.
